


Stupid Sexy Specs

by anemic_cinema



Series: May Masturbation Challenge [3]
Category: Insidious (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Misunderstandings, Pre-Movie(s), Secret Crush, The Simpsons references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 19:43:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1561811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemic_cinema/pseuds/anemic_cinema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Specs looks damn good in a too-tight Spectral Sightings t-shirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stupid Sexy Specs

“I can't believe they screwed up this order, goddamn it.” 

Specs was furiously going through the box of Spectral Sightings t-shirts that had just come in. The printing company him and Tucker had been using for the past year had massively screwed up, and sent them 100 size small and extra small shirts instead of the large and extra large shirts Specs had ordered. Thanks to Tucker's idea of putting videos of their investigations on YouTube, their website had been getting a lot of traffic, and t-shirt sales were way up. Which was fortunate, because the van needed repairs and they needed to pay rent on the not very spacious loft they rented. It was one of those refurbished industrial building type lofts, except that it looked like the refurbishment stopped halfway through.

“We can probably still sell them.” Tucker said in between handfuls of peanuts. 

Specs held out one of the small t-shirts. They were the men's sizes, except that they were fitted instead of boxy. “We're gonna have to do a flash sale or something.” He held the shirt up to his chest. “Huh. This actually might fit me.” 

Tucker watched as the other man pulled off his baggy t-shirt, and slipped on the much smaller one. Despite the size, it did fit him. It just fit him in a way that left nothing to the imagination. The screenprint on the shirt that showed both of their faces between the words “Spectral Sightings” in bold font looked a little distorted. 

“Wow, it feels like I'm wearing nothing at all.” Specs wiggled his arms.

Tucker just kept staring, too hypnotized by the way his partner's chest looked in the tight shirt to comment on Specs's Simpsons callback. 

“I dunno if you can walk down the street like that, people'll say shit.” Tucker tossed the now empty jar of peanuts in the trash.

“Like what?” Specs looked at him with genuine befuddlement.

“Dude...that shirt is mega gay-looking.” It sounded bad, but Tucker felt like it was his duty to give his partner the heads up.

Specs opened and closed his mouth in a scandalized manner. “Tucker, that's messed up.”

“It's true though.”

“Well fuck you! Maybe I like it that way. Maybe that's the vibe I wanna put out. God, you are such a homophobe.” Specs was angry now. 

“I didn't mean it that way.” Tucker rolled his eyes at the other man's anger. 

“How the hell did you mean it then? You know what, I gotta go get packages to the post office, and I'm gonna go wearing this awesome new shirt, because if it looks 'gay,' it must be awesome.” Specs grabbed the tote bag full of bubble mailers containing shirts. 

“I didn't mean gay as in bad, I meant gay as in literally.” The bearded man protested to no avail. His usual lack of tact and general abrasiveness had yet again made him the target for Specs's ire. 

“Whatever.” Specs shouldered the bag and stalked out of the loft to the stairs. The elevator was constantly making noises that suggested that it was about two seconds away from collapse, so the stairs were a safer bet.

Left alone in the loft, Tucker sighed and retreated to his space, which was cordoned off with curtains that were coated in dust. He knew deep down that he was going to have to eat some crow for his comments, but as far as he was concerned, he'd just been telling the truth. Shit, most of the dudes at the gay bar he frequented from time to time wore their shirts that tight. And honestly, it was a good look on Specs. It wouldn't surprise him if the poor sap got hit on by all kinds of people at the post office for it. 

He sat down in front of his computer, and half-heartedly checked his email as visions of Specs in that shirt danced in his head. If the loft had been any colder, he could have seen the guy's nipples. 

“Stupid sexy Specs.” He muttered to himself. At this rate he was going to have to rub one out just so he could face the guy again. It had been hard enough to prevent himself from getting hard earlier. Keeping the image of Specs in the shirt, looking totally oblivious as to how hot he looked, Tucker reclined in the spinny office chair he'd rescued from the curb and reached into his shorts. 

The bearded man jerked himself off to thoughts of Specs wearing nothing but that shirt. It was strangely arousing how Specs being clueless as to how sexy he looked could be. It made Tucker want him so damn hard. It made him want to show just what kind of effect he had on him. There was no doubt that his partner would probably be shocked to hell and back if he knew a fraction of the things that Tucker thought about doing with him and to him. 

The orgasm was quick and efficient, leaving Tucker relaxed and his hand sticky. He cleaned himself up, and as he was washing his hands in the kitchen sink, he heard the other man coming back up the stairs. Talk about good timing.

“You're not gonna believe this.” He heard the other man call out. 

“What?” Tucker turned to look at him, and saw that Specs's cheeks were flushed and he had a cheerful expression on his face.

“Some guy in the post office line hit on me.” 

“Really?” The bearded man felt a small jolt of jealousy upset his post-masturbatory mellow. 

“Yeah, gave me his number and everything.”

“I told you the shirt was literally gay-looking. Are you gonna call the guy?” Tucker tried to restrain his frustration that someone else had beaten him to the punch. 

“Maybe.” Specs put the now-empty bag on top of the box full of shirts. “He was kinda cute.” 

The bearded man took a can of soda out of their leaky fridge, and mentally cursed out the printing company for sending them the wrong damn shirts.


End file.
